Oh how I am missing this. The late nights down by the river, just a sweatshirt enough to keep warm.
The toes, covered in sand… with the flip-flop tan evidence of a summer well-lived
And of course there’s this. The lazy days on the Cape. Days that seem to go on forever, but weeks that are entirely too short.
It’s true… it’s that time of year again, and I’m dreaming of summer.
It’s a better place
Standing high upon this mountain
I’ve seen your face
Full of the light that holiest height can show
Blessed hand is why you you’ve given
But you’ve been given all you’ll ever need
To knowSo walk down this mountain
With your heart held high
Follow in the footsteps of your maker
With this love that’s gone before you
And these people at your side
If you offer up your broken cup
You will taste the meaning of this life
I spent the weekend at the Christ the King Women’s Retreat. It’s the same place that I was immediately before the fire last year. I remember coming home from the retreat feeling as though I was on the mountaintop, and less than 72 hours later finding myself about as deep in the valley as I’ve ever been. It was so hard to go back this year, and it was hard to be there, but I’m so glad that I did.
I’ve learned so much this year, and having this time away helped me to summarize it for myself. It’s been back to basics this year- just me and Jesus. We focused this weekend on the reality of God’s provision, and it was not hard to look back and see the many ways that God has provided. Beyond that though, God does not just provide for our worldly needs. He has provided for us once for all. His perfect provision was the death of Jesus on the cross. Only he could be the perfect substitution for the sacrifices required for our sin. I may not understand all of His ways, but for His sacrifice and for His love for me, I am eternally grateful.
It’s April Vacation, and I’m sitting here on my patio enjoying the beautiful weather. It’s hard to believe that it’s April and I’m out in a skirt and a tank top! I am so grateful for this space. It’s a little outdoor corner of the world to call my own, and this summer I am determined to make the most of it. Already I’ve had many meals out here, and have taken to doing my morning correspondence on the patio as well. I mean really, if this was your view, how likely would you be to spend your time anywhere else!?
Not only so but we rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has give us.
-Romans 5:3-5
I came across this familiar Scripture yesterday while reading through a Bible Study I am doing. “This is it,” I thought, “this is how I want to live my life.” This year has felt so full of suffering. The loss of three beloved family members in just 10 short months feels more than a little hard to take sometimes. It is easy to fall into the trap of questioning, but those questions have no satisfying answers. We live in a fallen world, and things happen that I don’t understand, but I know that as much as my heart breaks at the loss of my family members, so much more so does God’s. When I think of God as my Father, and when I think of Him as the Creator of these people I love so dearly, I realize that He weeps as well for their loss. That helps, but the perspective I’ve gained is contained in that verse above. I may suffer here, but I do want to take joy in that suffering because in the end, it produces a greater hope in my Savior, a greater hope that this world is not the one I was created for and that I will not languish here forever. I want to cling to that hope. I want to allow this pain to have meaning, to allow it to draw me closer to Christ, and as I read that verse last night I realized that it had.
I lived such an idyllic existence before. I had over 60 close family members and not a single one had passed away in the 28 years that I had lived. We vacationed together every year, spending up to three weeks in a tiny cottage on the Cape that only has beds for 13 but regularly sleeps closer to 30. Our collective pain as a family was limited, we had not yet lost anyone close. In this life, I was never forced to cling to Christ. I loved Him, I knew Him, I put my trust in Him, but there was a part of me that still felt that I was in control. That all changed on the 13th of April, and I think it took months for the shock to wear off, just in time for my aunt to pass away as well. In those months however, I have learned so much about the one I call my Savior. Would I have preferred to learn it a different way? Absolutely, but given the circumstances, I am grateful for the lesson.
Update - Just a few hours after I posted these words, my grandmother passed away. Even more so, I cling to the hope that is found in Christ.
I stood by my aunt’s wheelchair on Thursday, softly touching her hand, as my grandparents and I went to visit. My aunt never looked at me, her head remained tilted to the right, her eyes in the direction of my grandmother. It was unclear whether she recognized us and with little to say, little comfort to bring to someone so close to death, my attention was pulled towards my grandmother. I watched as she grasped the hand of her oldest daughter. I watched as she said hello, reminded my aunt that she was her mom. I was not surprised by her words. What was surprising to me though was the look on my grandmother’s face. I expected a look of sympathy, or of sadness, or at the very least something neutral to grace my grandmother’s face. Instead, as I looked at my grandmother I saw a face that was positively beaming. As she said hello to her daughter for what would be the last time, I saw the look that I imagine she wore on the day she greeted her daughter for the very first. Here was the woman who had been with my aunt since the very beginning of her time on earth, here was a woman who had until a few years ago had every reason to believe she would avoid burying a child, here was a woman who was less than 24 hours away from hearing the words every mother hopes never to hear, and she was smiling at the sight of her dying child.
The smile I saw spoke volumes. In it, I saw the joy that my grandparents must have felt at bringing home their first child. I saw the pride they felt when she graduated from high school and then from their alma mater. I saw the memories of the 65 years they shared with her. I saw the admiration we have all felt watching my aunt live with ALS, such a debilitating disease. I saw the sadness too of course, but more than anything in that smile I saw a mother’s love for her child.
This death was different in that it was expected. We had time to say goodbye this time around, and in fact, because of the progression of the disease it felt much more as if my aunt had been taken piece by piece instead of all at once. The little bit of the suffering that I saw at the end was more painful than anything I can imagine, but in some small way I am grateful for the time that we had. I am grateful that we knew that time was limited. I am grateful that each time we said goodbye we were able to say it like it might be the last time. I am grateful that we did not leave any “I love yous” unsaid.
On the night that my aunt died, her sister stepped outside to look at the wide Wyoming sky. She felt the wind my aunt loved so much pass by her, a sweet reminder that my aunt always said to “look for her in the wind.” She looked up and saw two perfectly clear stars side by side in the night sky, and beneath them a perfect crescent moon- a reminder of those we have lost this year. It is hard not to hope that somewhere, somehow, they are all together again.
Sorry to bore you with a post about house-cleaning, but I had to post since I have finally found a routine that actually keeps my house clean! Last Monday I spent about 6 1/2 hours deep cleaning my house. I cleaned everything. I cleaned baseboards, I cleaned under the bed, I moved the couch, I dusted, I vacuumed, I busted out the all-purpose cleaner. By the end of the day, the house was cleaner than it’s been in probably a year, and I was looking for an easy way to keep it that way. So, a quick internet search lead me to this blog post and I was pretty sure I’d hit gold. Over the past week I’ve done the daily resetting of the house as well as making sure my sink stays clean. The dishwasher doesn’t need to run every day so keeping the sink clean is my goal. Beyond that I’ve incorporated the daily chores and guess what? A week later, my house is just as clean as it was last Monday. There’s something about just tackling one surface a day that makes keeping things clean SO much more manageable!
2011 was obviously a low point in my life. The loss of my aunt and cousin was unimaginable, and was compounded by my once seemingly invincible family’s increasing brushes with reality. My grandparents are on the border of no longer being able to live on their own, my parents’ marriage seems to be crumbling and with it my own relationship with my mother, my aunt has ALS. 2012 does not promise to be any better. My aunt entered hospice last month, my parents have some tough decisions to make, and my grandparents are not getting any younger. Still, in the midst of this, I cling to the hope that Jesus provides. That this life is not all there is, that the brokenness of this world is not how it was intended to be, that while I may face struggles here, there is hope of the world to come.
I am heading out to celebrate the New Year this evening, and as I was dressing I was about to put on the silver bangles I bought earlier this year. Instead, I placed on my wrist two red bracelets, one faux-leather with a single bead, made en masse by my family as a remembrance of my aunt and cousin, one rubber labelled with the words “Accelerating the Cure for ALS.” As I bid adieu to a year in which I lost two family members and welcome a year in which I will very likely lose one more, it seemed like the most fitting accompaniment to my outfit for the evening.
In short, I wish good riddance to 2011, I hesitate to welcome 2012, and I yearn for the life of the world to come.
January – Work out 4x a week
February – Read the Bible every day
March – Meal Plan each week
April – Work out 5x a week
May – Finish the spring cleaning checklist
June – Plan at least 3 visits to cultural attractions
July – Eat breakfast outside whenever possible
August – Enjoy the family time
September – Keep the kitchen sink clean
October – Read at least two books for fun
November – Buy and wrap all holiday gifts
December – Schedule time for myself
Do you know how much you need Jesus? I didn’t until the last few days, until the hole in my heart was so clearly Jesus sized that there was no other solution than to sit down with Scripture, or at the very least with books that point me to Scripture. My need, my desire for Christ has been insatiable, which is, I suppose, a healthy place for it to be.
The most frustrating thing, particularly in this busy season of life is how difficult it is to find the time to fill that need. I need Jesus, but I seem to have no time. It’s easy to fill the need when I have endless hours stretching in front of me before I need to be somewhere, but when I need to be out the door at 7:30, it seems to be a lost cause. I will never be a morning person. Sometimes I squeeze in 15 minutes at school, most often over my lunch break, but that is hardly a place where my soul feels free to worship, feels free to seek Christ. I need my sustenance before that.
I was struck anew today while I was reading about how God instructs the Israelites to collect the manna each day, not to collect more than they needed for each day because otherwise it would rot. I thought then of Jesus’ words as he instructs his disciples that man does not live on bread alone, but on the Word. I need to feast on the Word daily. I can’t overeat on Sunday in preparation for a week that is too busy. I need the Word each day, or I will starve. I need Jesus.
Are you aware of your need?
In truth, there seems to be very little to be thankful for these days. This year has been a challenging one for my family. Coming up on Christmas, I realize that was the last day that I saw my aunt and cousin last year before they passed away. I don’t even remember saying goodbye. They lived so close I took for granted seeing them again soon. At Thanksgiving this year, it became increasingly apparent that in the next few weeks or months we will say goodbye to another aunt, this time with some warning, but again all too soon. With all of this sadness hanging over the holidays this year, what is there here to be thankful for?
Maybe it is in this, that this time, we have the opportunity to say goodbye. I can send an e-mail to my aunt sharing a song that makes me think of her and brings me comfort and she can write back. My cousins and uncle have had time to prepare. The funeral is largely planned, the eulogies have time to be written, and decisions don’t need to be made in the heat of the moment.
It’s made me think about what a gift time is. Whether Tuesday or any other day, we are all given 24 hours in which to live, 24 hours in which to make the most of each moment. I know it doesn’t mean I won’t fritter away moments here and there, but I am grateful for a greater awareness of the gift I’ve been given in the time that i have.
